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| Pay Disrespect to the Dead | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 27 2017, 04:22 PM (1,926 Views) | |
| ♥ Bright | Mar 19 2017, 11:07 AM Post #16 |
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Wannabe Writer
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He looked to her, frank and happy like he was a much older man relating wisdom, despite likely being around the same age. "Don't ever apologize for curiosity," he said, then, with an added wink, "at least not until you get caught." A light chuckled filled the room. "In all seriousness though, do as much digging as you like, just be wary of the consequences. It's what I'm doing by not telling you." She may have been a Marine, but all the same Lang was certain the High Command wasn't all that particular about having the knowledge of a missing Titanic Weapon be wide spread. The rank and file probably weren't to be privy of it. Rank and file that decided to burst into the room out of breath and nervous. Dear Walter perked up, however, at the sight of Lang and Mortimer. He rushed in carrying tupperware and proudly put it down on the table. Sure enough, he had actually brought something edible rather than a drawer of cutlery or the cupboard's supply of rat poison. "Hello Mr. Lang, Mr. Mortimer sirs! I got the things! Top shelf just like you said!" Lang smiled. He almost wanted to pat Walter on the head and feed him some treats. "So I did. Alright, well, thank you very much Walter, its much appreciated. Now I'm afraid its time you go back to the ship; we've things to do and someone needs to keep the decks scrubbed." "Oh, they sure do, Mr. Lang!" His enthusiasm melted, only just slightly, as he poked his fingers together and looked down at the floor. "Where was the, um, the gloss again, sir?" "In the crow's nest, Walter." "Ah, right you are! Thank you sir, I'll let you get back to it! Mr. Mortimer, sir, madam!" he saluted, smacked himself in the forehead by doing so, then stumbled away while barely avoiding a trip to the floor by tripping over his own feet. "Such a needy boy," Lang sighed as he passed around the tupperware and their contents of various rice dishes. "I don't know if you can do anything else with these Mortimer, but its food either way." He snapped open a box, retrieved a pair of chop sticks and took a few experimental bites. "And of course smart little alecs like ourselves need all the brain fuel we can get." Another few grains of rice fell victim to the sticks and Lang's quietly gnashing jaws. he took a moment to glance over at Eileen and then set the box and sticks down, before rubbing at his mouth. "You've missed the humble and obvious clue for the shining and obnoxious one," he told her. "We're the Jacks of All Trades. Sure, the bounties might not be so large here, but that's making the assumption that we only deal in bounties. We don't. Our ship is, as we speak, offloading a nice shipment of groceries for the fine people here to weep over alongside all their graves. Even if we don't get to do the whole bounty hunting extravaganza, we can still make plenty of money through one of the oldest practices in human history." He went back to the tupperware, but in looking down at it he also caught sight of the very faint glow coming from beneath the folds of his clothes, from within his chest. His expression hardened with it, and he made a poor attempt at hiding it. With a grunt, he set the box down again and confessed. "I suppose, it could be inferred, that us being here also has something to do with a need for some... therapy. I said I wasn't going to mention the details of Merrimont and I won't, but I will say this; it was intense. I got hurt, badly. It was hard on both of us, and I think I can speak for both of us when I say taking a step back rather than another forward was in our best interests." |
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| Crispy | Mar 19 2017, 07:53 PM Post #17 |
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Packet of Crisp
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Mortimer had found himself drifting through his own little world as Miss Falkner and his colleague tittered on, it had been rather a long time since he'd legitimately not had anything to do. Granted he'd just recently finished a rather nice holiday, but that hardly counted, it was medically ordered after all and he'd gotten a fair few things done during it, remodeling a mini-golf course being just one highlight. No, rather this was the first time in a good while he'd just been generally idle, not even preparing a meal he was waiting for Walter of all people to bring him something. Unheard of, really. Not sure I'm overly fond of this... It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, not exactly, his hands just weren't used to not doing anything for this long. He'd started to twiddle his thumbs wildly beneath the table, at speeds that were generating a definitive 'whirring' sound that he hoped his companions had attributed to the mechanical air conditioner rather than the human one his devil fruit had turned him into. With a crash and a clang, that could only herald one thing, Mortimer snapped from his daze and Walter spilled into the kitchen. He was carrying, as fortune would have it, the correct Tupperware. "Ah, smashing. Good show, old boy!" Mortimer reached out to help him load the boxes onto the table and, as he leaned forward, whispered, "Did you take care of that errand I gave you?" Walter bobbed his head in a serious affirmative. "Oh, yes sir. Got to it straight away, Chef. I had Amelia check to make sure I'd gotten all the stamps right, Chef." Mortimer beamed at him, he'd asked Amelia for help, which meant he'd been reading the suggestions board he'd nailed to the ceiling over Walter's bunk! Progress! As Lang went about directing Walter's duties for the rest of the day Mortimer squinted in thought and leaned over to his friend just as his wayward disciple wandered out of the squalid little kitchen. "You know, I'm positive the gloss isn't in the crow's nest, Lang. You wouldn't be sending our boy on a needlessly dangerous errand for a childish prank, now would you?" His crooked smile gave his mock horror away for what it was. "Shame on you, old man. Shame on you, what would Mr. Salty say?" Putting voice to his earlier thoughts Motimer nodded sagely. "Back to basics and all that, my dear. A few nice, simple bounties might be just what the doctor ordered. No big stakes or life or death daring do, just a run of the mill pay day for a couple of run of the mill public servants, wouldn't you say so, old bean?" He elbowed Lang lightly in the ribs. And with any luck that glow in the dark thermos in your chest will prove to be just as safe as that quack doctor said it would... Edited by Crispy, Mar 19 2017, 07:56 PM.
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Mortimer Montgomery • Crew Position: Quartermaster • Profession: Chef • Crew: The Jacks Of All Trades • Threat: 186 • SD Earned: 348 • Beli: 17,000,500 • L: Grand Line: Route Two Solomon Th'uul • Crew Position: N/A • Profession: Martial Artist • Crew: N/A • Bounty: 7,500,000 • SD Earned: 150 • Beli: 53,500,000 • L: Grand Line: Route Three | |
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| ♦ SoIo | Mar 22 2017, 10:34 AM Post #18 |
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Light Bender
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How endearing... Eileen couldn't stop to smile as she saw the lively interactions between the crew. At this point, everything coming from them was quite genuine. Eileen couldn't seem to find any indication of hidden evil. These men treated each other as like a family. If anything, the sight made her felt slightly homesick. She could feel herself opening up to them. The warm and gushy feeling of happiness was enough to suppress the oddly depressing atmosphere in Cactus Island. She looked up to the ceiling for a brief moment, contemplating about being part of a division. It was something she has yet to experience as she had always been part of some bureaucratic branch. Though, it was a stepping stone that she desired. She hoped she would be assigned to a division soon...just so that she could relive this sort of captured memory. As the food was delivered to her in a box, Eileen's heart felt incredibly relieved to finally see something she could munch on. While she expected a grand course meal from who was probably a stellar chef, this was more than satisfying enough to peacefully put her to bed. She beamed at Montgomery and their supposed crewmate, Walter. "Thank you, you wonderful gentlemen." She dug down on her food and ate at a moderate pace. She listened to Lang's reasoning as she was for being at Cactus Island, absorbing what he said initially. Getting supplies? Oh c'mon, this is probably the worst place to stock up. You know that's not the main reason. Her amusement elated a bit as she continued to listen. If there's any indication of the past 30 minutes, you and I are quite similar in being deductive and analytical. However, upon Lang's second half of his reasoning, Eileen could settle upon that as that made more sense. She finished her food and gently laid down her wooden chopsticks near the box. She rose from her seat and took both objects, striding towards the trash can to discard the finished item. There were still a lot of questions in her head that she wanted to ask, for example, is the entire Jack of All Trades here? What about his glowing chest? Last she read about Lang before Merrimont, he did not have such a contraption. However, she had just remembered the initial reason why she was in Cactus Island in the first place. She glanced over her watch and almost yelped upon looking at the time. It was rather late...actually very late. Late enough where if she continued to stay up, she could accidentally oversleep her debrief meeting that's at the crack of dawn. She looked back at the two bounty hunters and politely nodded. What a shame...she was getting quite comfortable with them. Not every beginning Marine in the Grand Line could have such a warm opening experience like this. "Thank you two for keeping me company, and thank you so so much for the food. I must be on my way though as I have to wake up very early tomorrow for a mission." Eileen then went up for a handshake from both Lang and Mortimer. "If we don't meet again, I wish you the best in your endeavors." It felt sort of sad to say that, but she needed to relish this moment as much as possible before she gets thrown into whatever will come at her way tomorrow. Upon conclusion of the handshake, she left the dining hall. "I just read up on the bounty hunter documents, particularly on the Marine provisions part. They can't stay here. This entire motel has been booked by Marines!" Well, what a surprise. The man has finally educated himself. He was also made aware of the current availability, which also seemed to have taken him awhile. Indeed, there was a clause in the document that Lang may not have been aware of: If the provisions are completely occupied by Marines, then they cannot stay. Albeit, it was common sense to know this. "I'm aware, Jay. That's why you're going to be giving them my room." She dangled the hotel keys around her finger and then tossed them to Jay, who fumbled at catching them. At the very least, this was the best that Eileen could pay back in return for the food they provided. Eileen had already retrieved all her sparse belongings and placed it into a separate, empty conference room that was connected to the lobby. "But why? They're just bounty hunters..." "Kindness can go a long way. I'll sleep on the couch tonight, no worries. Just make sure you reserve a room for me later on when a Marine leaves. And don't..." She stared down at the Petty Officer with a gritty tone. "Don't you dare tell them of what I did. They are not supposed to know, got it?" He gulped in reply. "Ok." "Good." She left an amusing smile to Jay and then turned around and made her way to her temporary sleeping quarters. "Good night, Jay!" The smile on her face grew wider as she heard him sigh. |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | Mar 25 2017, 07:05 AM Post #19 |
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"Dear Mr. Salty would be famously disappointed, I feel, assuming Walter doesn't miraculously develop an ability to perform a task to the letter. By 'crow nest' he'll probably go looking for a literal crow nest, and if not, well, I made sure to put an extra tin of gloss up there just to be safe. Frustrating as he might be at times, he is nonetheless a valued part of the crew, and I wouldn't want to see him harmed over something as petty as an exploitative prank," Lang explained as he nibbled at the rest of his food. "We save our nastiness for business, not for domestics. Would be an awful breach of trust on our part." He peered out of a window, unsure whether it was actually framed with glass or if the entire pane was solidified grime. What little of the outside world managed to squeeze in was swamped in darkness, with only the orange of street lamps to restrain it. They'd been there longer than Lang had expected. A nudge in his ribs brought him back from the tiny aperture. A nudge that ignited more pain than it should have, for all the friendly force put behind it. He cracked a pained smile, gently rubbed at the site of the blow and coughed, "Ahem, yes. As Mortimer says; we're taking it easy. For all the time I've spent in the operating theater, the scars are still rather recent." He sighed but continued munching. Life always had to keep the balance. For every big score they made, came with it weeks and months of aching recovery. Really, swords, fists, and guns had been in style far too long. Time they fell out of fashion, so far as Lang was concerned. Only a few grains of rice alluded the doom of his chopsticks. "Leaving already?" he asked. A shame, even if it was late. Eileen made for good and interesting company, even if she was terribly nosey. But what kind of hypocrite would he be if he couldn't respect and appreciate that? He lightly shook her hand when it was offered and gave a warm smile in return. "Unless your mission requires a bunch of off-shore fishing, I'm sure we'll bump into each other at some point. We'll be here for a few days at least." he cleared out the rest of the food and snapped the box shut. "But, don't be a stranger Eileen. We are both in the same business after all. If you ever need our services, you know where we are for the immediate future." He watched her go, curios and happy. A little naive perhaps, being so fresh to the Grandline, but with a brain so equally ripe she'd no doubt go quite far. Too bad the night called. The boxes were gathered, Red jumped back into a preferred pocket, and Lang rose himself. "Well that was pleasant," he concluded, while patting his stomach. "Even if the accommodation could be better. Still, we may as well turn in ourselves and make use of that offer. Beds that don't sway constantly! It'll be a nice change I'm sure." The cool night eyes brushed his cheeks. It would be a wonderful time to go for a stroll and explore the darker nooks and crannies of the city, but fatigue did grasp at his muscles and call him to a set of soft sheets. he left the dingy kitchen and rounded back to the front of the motel where Jay still sat behind his little desk. "Your room is ready for you," he called nervously, placing the keys on the counter. He didn't really want to make eye contact. Lang stopped and looked as he squirmed on his stool. "Something wrong, Petty Officer?" he asked, with a great frown. "N-No, sir. Nothing." Lang took a step back and scanned the many doors and windows of the building. They weren't far behind Eileen. Yet nothing stirred from any of them. Not a single light, nor a single figure brushing its teeth or fumbling to get undressed. He took a glance down at the keys and the little tag on them. "I see. Well, thank you for all your help. Goodnight." Lang turned and began to walk away. Jay nodded, said goodnight himself, then relaxed back into the stool. He almost jumped out of his skin as Lang's head suddenly peaked around the counter again. "Sorry, one more thing, what room was Miss Eileen staying in?" "Twelv- I mean, uh, no, not twelve... thirteen?" Lang looked down at the tag and smiled sweetly at Jay. "Thank you, officer," he said before leaving proper to the room. It was a humble assembly, but if nothing else kept in far better condition than the kitchen. Two single beds sat, neatly folded and covered in fresh linen. "Our home away from home. Any particular choice in bed, Mortimer?" For all his cheer, something in the air, a strange premonition, told Lang as he shuffled into bed that he might not get as much sleep as he would like. |
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| Crispy | Mar 29 2017, 06:40 PM Post #20 |
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Mortimer's faux Poe face slipped a little as a grin kicked his lips up a notch at the sides. "No of course, not. That would be a terrible waste of time and resources after all." Needn't mention the time he saw the captain replace all of Walter's right shoes with identical left one's. Unprofessional or not he hadn't been able to resist letting the lad wander about off kilter for a few hours before setting him straight. "Yes, an awful breach of trust, who amongst us could, in good conscience, take advantage of dear, sweet, Walter?" Our employer. He thought ruefully, our employer does it every other Tuesday. He, of course, was far above such childish frivolities, he had a kitchen to run, and on his off hours he was known to legally murder in service to the Government. Besides, he got plenty of excitement from Walter just keeping one eye on him day to day, that boy was a walking health and safety breach that could operate a stove. After Merrimont, when the Doctors had been tightening all of his screws and hammering his dents out, they'd been so kind as to inform him that his blood pressure was a little high. They had marked down "high risk profession" as the likely cause on their charts, but Mortimer Montgomery knew better. It was his second job as a daily babysitter that was going to be the death of him. "Ah, are you off, my dear?" Mortimer rose to shake the young Marine's hand, she had a better grip this time, resolved. Shaking it warmly, he chattered away; "Absolutely topping to meet you, Ms. Falkner. Don't be a stranger now, and if you happen to come across any likely work for a pair of overdressed Bounty Hunters, we'd surely appreciate it if you tossed it our way." And she strode away Mortimer turned back to Lang and sat back down, delicately slipping another morsel of food into his mouth. "Yes, it's nice to meet a Marine who's not involved in some sort of shady business or incipient act of daring do for once. Usually there's some kind of armed stare down before we get to the chatting bit, rather nice to skip the tension and move straight on to dinner." He patted his flat belly happily, a satisfied smile on his face. "Bed's do sound nice," he conceded, pushing himself to his feet as their pair made their exist through the same door Eileen had used, "the one at the hospital smelled awfully of death. With any luck that comparison is one I won't feel like using tomorrow morning. I might just miss the swaying though, who doesn't like getting rocked to sleep, eh!?" He chortled boisterously and resisted the urge to slap Lang on the back, like he might an old school chum. He'd noticed the wince after his cajoling elbow jab and thought, with some embarrassment and guilt, that Lang's injuries were quite a bit more severe than his and he definitely wasn't at 100% yet. The rest of the walk was a bit of a dozy blur, it had been a long day after all. Lang collected their key from the desk jockey, had a brief chat about something or other, room numbers or some such, before they made their way to the small room that would be home for at least the next 13 hours, if Mortimer had his way. "Oh, left bed I think, old man. Terribly bad luck to sleep on the same side you write with." He had no idea if that was true, but it had been a story from back home. Also the left bed's pillow lucked slightly fluffier by his keen eyes, and it wasn't Lang's head that was injured after all. He'd make it up to him tomorrow, buy Red a tiny hat or something. "Goodnight, Langsam. I'd espouse wisdom regarding bed bugs, but I believe you've brought one with you that might find the invasion of territory something of a declaration of war." Edited by Crispy, Apr 16 2017, 09:51 AM.
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Mortimer Montgomery • Crew Position: Quartermaster • Profession: Chef • Crew: The Jacks Of All Trades • Threat: 186 • SD Earned: 348 • Beli: 17,000,500 • L: Grand Line: Route Two Solomon Th'uul • Crew Position: N/A • Profession: Martial Artist • Crew: N/A • Bounty: 7,500,000 • SD Earned: 150 • Beli: 53,500,000 • L: Grand Line: Route Three | |
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| ♦ SoIo | Apr 7 2017, 01:09 PM Post #21 |
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Light Bender
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(OOC: I am getting destroyed by school. Sorry for the delay, I will be more free after April 19th.) "I guess this will do..." Obviously, her tone didn't sound satisfying. Eileen stretched out her arms and legs out, attempting to relax before settling on the couch. She was the only person in the lonely conference room. She steadily stared at the end of the couch, whose length was not wide enough, requiring her to rest her legs up on the couch arms in order to sleep. She yawned and was feeling dreary. Before thinking of going to bed, she pulled out an object from her small bag. She felt a slight of nervousness as this was her very first mission in the Grand Line. She placed both of her thumbs over the faces of her parents and gently slid down, similar to caressing them as if they sprung to life. She felt a tidbit of melancholy, though the feeling was more geared towards homesickness. She has to be strong. Her dad was always away in missions like these. He loved his family as much as she did, how would he have endured through moments like these? Eileen heaved out a sigh as she placed the portrait back into her bag. She then settled on the couch and stared at the dry ceiling. Her eyelids shut and she fell soundly asleep. "This is your assignment!" The captain boomed with a loud voice as he entered in the room with documents on hand. Eileen looked outside of the window as the sun had just cracked out of the horizon and shined brightly upon their grisly room and the few gruffy looking Marines. She was with a group of about 7 other Marines, mostly Ensign, and one other Lieutenant. Though from a first glance, these Marines appeared to be relatively experienced in the Grand Line. And she knew based off their first look at her, they recognized she was new to the sea and passively treated her so (albeit acknowledging her ranking). As a result, she avoided being direct with her peers. She almost dozed off during the Island Debrief period. She grumbled to what was obviously an uncomfortable sleep from the couch and could feel sore on her back and thighs. Besides, she's already heard the gist of the location on prior arriving to the island. However, the one notable pointer she did catch was that there were 3 Captains that operate this sector of Cactus Island, each rotating every week to make sure they avoid becoming insane from the depressing atmosphere. The Captain swiftly went around the room and passed out the documents. Eileen quickly opened them and began reading. The operated Marine base was quite small, causing her to deduce that the Marines did not care too much about this place. Especially considering with the Captain swaps and the gloomy setting. Why am I even placed here anyways... No need to mope at this point. She received assignment details, now it's time to look into them. As she was listening to the captain, she also processed the files and spoke under her breath. "There have been disturbances among the main pilgrimage groups in Cactus Island. They are currently in the process of electing a head mourner." (these groups are more organized than I thought) "The groups are leading a campaign and are close into making a decision. However, there have been disturbances that have delayed the process. These disruptions range from graffiti and tampering upon tombstones, even making it to emulate that the dead are alive again. This disrespect to the graves has caused uneasiness among the pilgrimage groups. In order to maintain what is traditional here in Cactus Island, the disturbances must be removed wholly so that the election of a head mourner is uninterrupted." Interesting. Eileen pulled out a few images from the case and studied them. Indeed, these pictured images from a first glance had the potential to scare anyone that passed by. The graffiti looked dangerous and appeared to give off a warning, while the tampering have ranged from removing crosses off the ground and even removing their respective tombstones. The obvious first question was "What is the motive for this?". But an answer was not obvious right away and clues were needed to figure out more details. Maybe the imag- "Ms. Falkner?" This was the first time she focused her attention on the captain. "Captain Grayson." She replied in acknowledgement. The captain looked rather calm but had an expression that revealed perseverance. "...Do you have any questions?" Did he catch her not listening to him? "No..." "Hmph. Pay attention. This isn't the Blues anymore." Eileen curved her lips and ignored reactions from other Marines. She resolutely nodded in obedience. Captain Grayson's words didn't necessarily make him sound like a jackass, but the tone sounded cautious. Maybe there was more to the mission than what was initially conceived. Either way, this sounded like a mission she could utilize her detective skills. How perfect. Maybe that's why she was assigned here in the first place. If there was anyone that was going to solve a puzzle, it was going to be her. She remained focus on Grayson as he continued his debrief. |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | Apr 9 2017, 05:30 AM Post #22 |
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Being awoken at some awful time in the morning did little to make a happy Lang. Normally he reserved the express right to a good lie in - to ten or eleven, at least. Nothing fun ever happened in the morning, it was the dull and boring brother to the adventurous and daring afternoon and evening. Morning was a time of drudgery, and often Lang couldn’t stand it. But all the same, even in his life, the occasional bit of drudgery was necessary. He also very much suspected their quiet and polite benefactor, Eileen Falkner, was something of an early bird who made very certain to grab the worms when the chance presented itself. So, with a groan, did Lang drag himself back into the world of the waking. He didn’t even bother to check on Mortimer. Man tended to be quite stringent with punctuality and so had either allotted himself a precise number of minutes of extra sleep or otherwise was already up. He grabbed his coat from a chair, slipped it on, and crawled with a zombie’s gait to the door and the blooming horizon outside. Coffee would be good, but he might have to flex his vocal chords to get it. He wasn’t quite in the talking mood, not yet. So if not coffee, something to listen to and stimulate his brain with. A handy and ancient clock, quite possibly several hours out of time, but which Lang was forced to trust nonetheless, told him it was just the right time to say good morning to the military types. Indeed a few were wandering the grounds with even less enthusiasm than him. Other than a few citizens whose job demanded they be out and about at the crack of dawn, the town seemed all but empty. With a great yawn, Lang descended the stairs of the motel to the ground floor and began to wander the complex as innocently as he could, head down but eyes very much a-wander until they locked on to a particular individual Lang had in mind. No idea of the man’s name, but he was also the only one not half-asleep. Older, bearded, few scars here and there. A veteran, and no doubt the one in charge of the local operation. With soft footfalls, Lang followed him around the lobby and then planted his back to the wall just next to a window that had been teased open. Beyond was a conference room, hosting, unsurprisingly, some sort of conference. The captain, commodore, maybe even just commander, boomed away, voice carelessly wafting out of the window and into Lang’s ears. Almost made him want to break open a bottle of champagne. So perhaps there’s some work here after all, he pondered. Some sort of election scandal at that, which almost always a juicy situation to get tied up in. Elections often meant people of power and influence, people of power and influence equaled money, so on so forth. A wonderful opportunity to assist with the official investigation and get a little pay for doing so. Better yet, Lang knew a person that just might be able to get him onboard this particular ship before it departed and they were left behind to scrape some pennies by trading turnips. From his coat pocket, Lang extracted an old newspaper and held it up in front of his face. He didn't even read anything, the issue was from several months ago, but it allowed him to inconspicuously listen in without being disturbed. Occasionally a page would be turned or the paper ruffle. He waited and listened and waited and listened until the briefing came to an end and people started to filter out. A subtle eye scanned every individual until he saw just the right shade of hair he was looking for. Suddenly the paper disappeared and Lang stepped out of non-existence. "You know, Miss. Falkner, this sounds like an excellent chance at collaboration. That, and I feel we owe you," he said sweetly. "But I can't quite put my finger on why!" The smirk and sly finger tapping his chin told a totally opposite story. "Oh, and very sorry for listening in. Going to assume there's some law I could get into trouble for breaking in that regard, but, well, an open door - or window in this case - is seen as an invitation in some cultures. You won't tell, will you?" Tech |
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| Crispy | Apr 20 2017, 08:20 AM Post #23 |
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There was a certain malaise sitting over Whiskey Peak this morning as Mortimer trudged through the early mists that had rolled down over the hills. The streets were as damp and dreary as many of it's occupants seemed to be as he took his morning stroll. It wasn't a luxury oft afforded to him, what with living at sea rather limiting his choice of route somewhat, unless he flew around a bit, he supposed; though that would rather defeat the purpose of a morning "stroll". As far as he was aware, however, the denizens of Cactus Island were somewhat known for joviality in the face of all the death and pointy vegetation they lived in intimate contact with. An impression that stood in stark contrast to the mood that had settled over the streets he'd meandered through for the last few minutes. Granted he could have been walking down particularly gloomy streets, or perhaps these people didn't appreciate a solid morning gadabout as he did. Far-fetched as the notion was, he could also consider that, just perhaps, many did not appreciate having to move around at the crack of dawn, a preposterous notion really. Who wouldn't want to get stuck in as soon as possible, downright slothful, downright indolent to waste a perfectly good morning, I say! Mortimer's shiny shoes clacked meaningfully against the cobblestone streets as he altered course and began to make tracks back towards the Marine's compound, his sharp eyes stabbing at people suspiciously as he passed. No, something was definitely going on. Something he hadn't been informed of. Something that was bringing the mood of the entire town down to Brick Blues levels of dreariness. Something that somebody would likely pay him very handsomely to reverse. Mortimer nostrils vacuumed in some of the mist and he took a great, dramatic sniff of the air. "By Jove, I smell business!" As he approached the base he couldn't help but notice the general hustle and bustle of the marines on duty, a stark contrast to their activity yesterday. As they all seemed to be heading the same direction Mortimer followed discreetly on silent feet. It wasn't a long walk to the meeting room, or conference room, or briefing room, whichever brand of "room people tell other people things" room they were using anyway. With nary a thought to the illegalities of what he was doing (which was rather indicative of Langsam rubbing off on him, he thought) Mortimer shifted into a fine powdery snow and drifted into the vents where he swirled around, listening intently to the conversation happening below. It didn't take long for him to take note of a certain spider smuggling newspaper reader in residence just outside the door, Mortimer would have grinned if he still had a mouth. Seems they'd both had the same idea. |
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Mortimer Montgomery • Crew Position: Quartermaster • Profession: Chef • Crew: The Jacks Of All Trades • Threat: 186 • SD Earned: 348 • Beli: 17,000,500 • L: Grand Line: Route Two Solomon Th'uul • Crew Position: N/A • Profession: Martial Artist • Crew: N/A • Bounty: 7,500,000 • SD Earned: 150 • Beli: 53,500,000 • L: Grand Line: Route Three | |
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| ♦ SoIo | Apr 26 2017, 10:30 AM Post #24 |
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Light Bender
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(OOC: I finished my last undergrad final. School is done. After a week long retreat, I will be back in full posting speed) "What in the world." She was sifting through the documents in order to prepare herself more for the mission, or pick up any premature leads before diving deep into the field. Of course Langsam's entrance would startle Eileen. Literally, she only met the guy once in her entire life from the previous night. To say it was unexpected to suddenly meet him again within 12 hours was an understatement. The fact that he had access to the Marine building and also hear into her missional debrief had also creeped her out. Additionally, it surprised her even more that she wasn't able to pick up his movement or feel his presence within the vicinity. She could only deduce that Mr. Langsam was very skilled at the arsenal of staff...much more than she was capable of. That shouldn't be surprising, considering he was more experienced in the seas where the strong prevailed. Still, she found it rather difficult to hide feelings of astonishment and sudden distrust. She quickly regained her composure and shook her head. She looked around to see if any other Marines were within earshot. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you esteemed bounty hunters have access to our buildings now?" Then she rolled her eyes and placed both of her hands on her hips as an attempt to show authority. "Ah, nevermind that. You were able to hear into our debrief? I hope you realize that's an infraction in eavesdropping into material that you do not have authorization for." Honestly, the first thing she would have done was report him on the spot. This situation was beyond creepy for her. But maybe, just maybe, there was more to it than what she could initially see. Either way, Langsam better have come up with some concrete reasoning. "What do you want...?" |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | Apr 30 2017, 01:35 PM Post #25 |
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She looked upset and it was just ever so slightly adorable. Lang continued to grin and shrugged like a young teenager being told off for snooping. "I did say sorry, didn't I? Strictly speaking, no us 'esteemed bounty hunters' - and thank you for that compliment, by the way, probably don't have access to your buildings and resources. But what we do have, as you've pointed out, is a pocket full of esteem. How we got it and whether we deserve it at all is another conversation entirely, neither here nor there. What's matters is that we do have it, and as thanks Marine officers tend to look the other way over minor and petty infractions. Especially when a trade of intel nets them some wanted criminals." His eyes glinted. It almost appeared like he had beli-shaped contact lenses. "Which brings me neatly back to the point I was hoping to make - collaboration, Eileen. As we've both just been informed, something or someone is stirring up a mess here on Cactus Island. Heating tensions, almost certainly with the idea of it boiling over. Religions throughout history are known for two things - influence, and not playing so nice with those that disagree with them. Could be our mystery vandaliser is wanting something to do with both, but I'd wager it was more the former. Elections for head mourner are coming up, after all. Coincidence, or conspiracy? The second option, I'd like to point out, offers me an opportunity for employment. And you're already aware of my CV." The point he was aiming for should have been clear. This was just what Lang was after - and no doubt Mortimer too. A bit of excitement and a chance to get paid, but nothing quite as intense as running around trying to beat down Yonko officers. Cactus Island was, after what they had been through, the very epitome of Paradise. Hopefully not too easy, but noting that would result in another coma. Lang wasn't sure he could bear to lose his second heart, loathe it though he did. "So, what do you say? Can we call this an alliance and reap some mutual benefits?" He held his hand out, teeth sparkling in the morning sun. But before any contact could take place, he paused, withdrew the hand and whipped out his Den Den. "Actually, let's put a stopper in that champagne bottle for just a moment. Would be rude to be conducting business without Mortimer around, I suppose. That, and his insight is always helpful." He punched in the number on reflex, having long since memorized it. "Mortimer? Mortimer, are you there? Awake? Of course you are, when have you ever gotten up after me. Could you come meet me outside of the local Marine command? I'm with Miss Falkner. We may have ourselves a yellow brick road to follow." The snail fell asleep, and with Red rooting on his shoulder, Lang held out his hand again. |
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| Crispy | May 4 2017, 07:22 AM Post #26 |
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Without bothering to reply through his Den Den Mushi, Mortimer swirled artfully out of the nearest vent and reformed his physical form next to his colleague, facing the likely bewildered Ms. Falkner. "Ah, good morning, Eileen." He chirped smoothly, brushing off his entrance casually as if he'd just stepped through an open door. "I do hope you slept well, my dear! I myself had a rollicking good nights sleep and feel fresh as a daisy, you know, you really can't put a price on a much needed rest." He put on his best grin, hoping that given Eileen's reticent response to Lang's very illegal eavesdropping on an official Marine briefing, she would be similarly disposed to cutting him the same slack. And if she wasn't he was sure the grin would cinch it, nobody could resist the grin. Mortimer, you charming devil, you. "Now," he said as he brushed a hand through his already immaculately combed hair, always a tad surprised that his transformation didn't do anything to muss it. "What's all this about a yellow brick road? Some sort of joint venture? Some kind of mission requiring off the wall feats of courage and daring do? Some errant quest to remove the malaise that has covered this island like tar, revealing the shimmering clean kitchen counter of hope that lies beneath!? Why Eileen, you've come to the right gentlemen, well, gentleman at least, Lang tends to be rather fluid on that distinction. But I can assure you, you've come to the right gentleman, and occasional gentleman; always gentleperson!" He rubbed his hands together excitedly, not being at work was choking him, they'd been off for too long. A bounty was just what they needed, or failing a bounty a military assignment they could piggy back off of for something to do. And to think, some people sat on the beach and read on holiday. Weirdos. With any luck Eileen had forgotten that she hadn't actually agreed to take either of them along yet, and had been swept away on the tide of Mortimer's enthusiasm, hope springs eternal and all that. "So, Ms. Falkner, do we have an accord?" He hit her with the grin again, this time he positively beamed, who could say no to that face? |
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Mortimer Montgomery • Crew Position: Quartermaster • Profession: Chef • Crew: The Jacks Of All Trades • Threat: 186 • SD Earned: 348 • Beli: 17,000,500 • L: Grand Line: Route Two Solomon Th'uul • Crew Position: N/A • Profession: Martial Artist • Crew: N/A • Bounty: 7,500,000 • SD Earned: 150 • Beli: 53,500,000 • L: Grand Line: Route Three | |
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| ♦ SoIo | May 6 2017, 09:30 PM Post #27 |
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Light Bender
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(OOC: Back and more than alive!) Should I even be surprised? Eileen gave out a disdainful look when Lang's eyes turned into shiny gleams of beli. Just when she thought Lang was not her stereotypical Bounty Hunter, she was disappointed upon seeing Lang's somewhat apparent greed. Though, if Lang's surprising eavesdrop wasn't a surprise to her, the next part certainly was. When Mortimer had appeared right beside Lang as if he had formed out of thin air, Eileen jumped as if her soul had almost left her body. She almost shrieked, but covered her mouth punctually to swallow in the spaceless feeling of shock. Her eyes widened in accordance with her body. How was this possible? Eileen thought he had also used some sort of stealth technique, but this was beyond her scope of understanding. She paused and proceeded to think for a few seconds, digging deep into her mind palace of experiences and knowledge to try and figure out this phenomenon. To both Mortimer and Lang, it was quite obvious that it was the working of a Devil Fruit. However, Eileen has never ever seen Logia fruits before. She has only read a snippet about them. She recuperated and shook her head to clear her mind. She stomped at the floor in frustration (mostly in her response in getting creeped out), catching some passerby Marines' attention. Though, they walked away when Eileen began to spout out. "I never asked for both of your help! Why do you think it's appropriate to butt yourselves into my business!?" She then processed their words of persistence, to which she rolled her eyes and sighed. After all, these greedy bastards just wanted money! Maybe with their assistance, the mission could be done faster and Eileen could be rid of them sooner. The young Lieutenant turned around to face her back at them and groaned. "Ugh, fine! Don't do anything stupid...and you will follow my orders, you got it? Otherwise, I'd have valid evidence to bring down your reputation within the Marines." Duh, she had that as leverage at least. Good thing she could remember the Bounty Hunter documents. She didn't want to sound intimidating, but she was sure as hell bossy. In terms of raw power, she was definitely inferior, but in this environment, she had authority. She walked away from them in an obviously irritated fashion, but it also gave permission for the two to follow her. There was a small amount of regret that creeped up to her for lending her living space to them. Not like they would ever know about it either. It was going to take a lot to earn her trust. "Hmph, interesting place." Eileen had grabbed out her notebook and ballpoint pen upon observing the scene in front of her. A few Marines have grouped around the scene and were on guard to prevent any priests or citizens from walking past the perimeter. Some were being interviewed by the Marines. The scene in front of her depicted intense graffiti on the walls of a ruined building that was in the progress of rebuilding. Sprays of dangerous red had spread across the surface with intense and graphical representations of murdered priests. There was a drawing of a pirate that loomed over the drawing of the massacre, to which Eileen could quickly recognize as Leander Hasting. If she remembered correctly, he was one of the most notable pirates of the current age, having wrecked many of the buildings here in Velvet Tip. She slightly smirked upon reading his death; quite a shame he couldn't make it far. In addition to the graffiti, there were streaks of paint that were sprawled all over the ground in a chaotic fashion. No evidence of any utensils or careless materials were left by the fugitive...or possibly fugitives. The ground was clean except of the paint. This was essentially an exact depiction of what she had seen from one of the evidence photos. However, Eileen noted a part of the drawing that was quite...remarkable. A straw hat being held by Leander's hand. She narrowed her eyes at that particular piece. What could that possibly mean? "Quite the drawing, isn't it?" Before she could reveal any of her deductions, she decided to test her 'new' partner to see if his capabilities. "So...before we move onto the next scene, which is at Cactithedral, anything you want to point out, Mister Langsam?" Her addition of 'Mister' was meant to be sarcasm, but she didn't make it obvious. |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | May 10 2017, 10:12 AM Post #28 |
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Oftentimes it made sense, when in the realm of negotiations, to try and keep a cool head and retain one's composure at all times. Inadvertently offending someone that had something to offer but was unwilling to give was a poor tactic in making them change their minds about the issue. All the same, it was a faux paus Lang did not quite manage to avoid. On Mortimer's appearance, and Eileen's subsequent panic - a much kinder word than some would use - Lang snorted in amusement. Not particularly loudly or with gratuitous gesture, but it was there and he mentally kicked himself for it. It was unkind, yes, but also potentially a hamper. She seemed far less inclined and friendly that morning than the night before, a saddening and unhelpful twist, but all the same it wouldn't do to humiliate her further. Quietly, he coughed away the last traces of humour and tried his best to scold his fellow bounty hunter. "Really Mortimer, manners, manners," he tutted, though it was easy to see there was little in the way of wrath behind his words. Rolling his eyes, he took a step towards Eileen and bowed slightly in genuine apology. "Sorry," he winked, "but as much as Mortimer sometimes forgets his supernatural tendencies, he is right. You asked about us and our work yourself last night. Acknowledged it even; we're good at our jobs, Eileen. We could be a lot of help. And if we're not, then we'll be on our way, heads held low in shame, nothing gained but nothing lost either. It really can only be a win-win." Lang was quite determined to get the hypothetical signature signed. Taking part in the Marine's investigation, even if he would normally much prefer to avoid their presence for the bureaucratic, sniveling mess they tended to be, really was exactly what he and Mortimer needed after Merrimont and all the particularly hardcore trades they'd found there. That, and he did genuinely like Eileen. She was smart, curious, and with a moral core that really commanded respect even from someone as occasionally underhanded as Lang was. Her acceptance, however reluctant, come with a burst of both relief and excitement. "Good choice," he said with another sly wink. He was not particularly afraid or offended by her threats, since he had no intention of screwing her over regardless. Even if for whatever reason they did and they genuinely made an enemy of her, Lang was, as always, fairly confident in his ability to worm his way out of any potential sticky situation she may cause. Still, all hypothetical hot air wasting time and mind space. There was, after all, work to be done. ...but not before the Den Den in Lang's pocket began droning on for attention. Lang frowned, sighed, and reached in for the device as they walked. "Ruining the moment," he muttered. All the same he answered with a click. "Lang speaking." To his mild surprise, it was William slaving some poor other snail to broadcast over however many miles lay between them. "Hey Lang, how is it going? Is Mortimer there with you? I'd like to talk to you both about something." "He's here," "Hey Morty. What have you guys been up to?" "Not blowing ourselves up for a change. Otherwise, making friends and trying to do good in the world. The usual." "On my part, I'm almost done with the Las Arcadas project, which is what I wanted to speak to you about, and I've been doing some training and some bounty hunting here and there." Lang clicked his tongue and an oh-so-slight drip of worry overtook his brow. "That very expensive project, yes. Not to say I disapprove, per se, just slightly wary. Making the books balance on that one hasn't been fun." "Alright, listen closely now. The situation in Las Arcadas, as reported by pretty much everyone I know is getting economically worse by the second. Normally, if we had the funds to invade the market, this would be great for us, but we've barely built the thing and we would have to put every bit of our ressources in to turn in profit. I don't know about you guys, but I'd rather have the option of selling the building for a good profit instead, and upgrade our original operation with the new funds. So I'd like you to try to find buyers. I think I left a copy of the plans of the building somewhere on the wind rider, if you want to study them for more selling points you can use. The starting price which covers our expenses and projected gains had we continued investing in less risky business would be about one billion beli, but I think we can get much more if we find multiple buyers and pit them against each other in a bidding war. "And there is something else, I would like you to run a background check on two members of the crew. The first is Devlok Colt. He's been in the crew since before I joined, but Jack's captain log never actually mentioned anything positive or negative about him, so I don't know him that well. And the second is Minerva O'Mally. She's new, but she has been doing great work with Raine and Unca. I just need to know how far I can trust each of them." Lang took to scratching his ear as the spiel entered an extended run. William couldn't half breathe when he needed to. "Stagnating for now, but give it a year or two and arguably it may be in a more fiscally sound position than it was before all the space lasers and whatever made the log tower go haywire. Conflict and destruction almost always leads to economic boom after the fact, William. Everyone rushes in to fill all the holes with fresh talent. Regardless, I'm inclined to agree with you. Even though we have been turning a lot of profit recently, and as wonderful as it was, that building was uncomfortably ambitious. As for the other matter, I'll look into it later. For now, we're in the middle of work, so I'll have to cut this short. Nice hearing from you all the same, Will." The Den Den went dead and was returned to the depths of his coat. "Now, where were we?" He remained still, perfectly so. A better spider than the skittish Red ever could be. Still, that is, except for the eyes, which flickered this way and that, absorbing every detail they could gather from the crude artwork. Violent, passionate, and seeped in the lore of the island. His lips pursed and his lids narrowed. It was a very, very interesting piece of artwork - if only by the fact that it was art. Most criminals didn't much care or dabble in such nuisance unless they were lifting it. This one, however, had something they wanted to say alongside something they wanted to do. "Quite," he murmured at Eileen's question. He wasn't totally detached, even if he was a little transfixed. Eventually however, he began to surface from the paint's layers. He crossed his arms and began to tug at his chin. "If all we had was a picture of some dead priests, I'd simply say we were dealing with scare tactics. Maybe even just distasteful youths doing as youths do. But these..." he said, tracing a finger in the direction of Hastings and the hat, "...these are too important. We're dealing with topics quite personal to this island. Legends, at that. Hastings was of course very involved with the island's recent history. But the hat... if the history books or anything to go by, is the symbol of a Pirate King. One that supposedly, like many pirates, made this their first stop in the Grandline. Both are significant figures. And both are now dead, which is the more curious aspect of their depiction. Why invoke dead legends?" His finger tapped at his chin at ludicrous speeds. "Pure speculation at this point, but I wonder if someone believes in some sort of prophetic return of these legends. Or, alternatively, the rise of a similar such figure. One that will bring equal levels of destruction and purge what they see as an affront, or perhaps stagnation, of this island." Kneeling, Lang closely examined some of the streaks on the ground. No hard evidence of what exactly had been used, but... "Mortimer," he asked, looking over his shoulder. He didn't know another man that knew utensils better. True, Mortimer was not, as far as Lang was aware, a practicing painter, but there might have been some fine detail of texture or consistency that the butler's trained and keen eye could pick up that Lang's own could not. "I don't suppose you can make anything of this, can you? What might have done it, brands maybe?" |
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| ♦ SoIo | May 16 2017, 09:56 AM Post #29 |
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"Prophetic return..." Eileen chuckled under her breath after hearing Lang's correct deduction so far. She wouldn't exactly call Hastings a legend in comparison to the Pirate King. Far from it, one already died before even reaching to the New World. Unfortunately, Lang's analysis didn't add anything new to what she has deduced so far, but she was still impressed nevertheless. The Marine turned towards Lang and responded with amusement. "You have to be some lunatic to think you can bring back the dead, right? Though, the scare tactic fits quite well in this island. These priests and citizens do whatever they can to respect the dead and keep them calm, literally almost worshipping them. Playing to their fears by raising the dead would terrify these people. But yeah, Mort-" She looked towards where she thought Mortimer would be, but to her surprise, he was not remotely close to them. Question marks popped out of her head as she wanted to make sure the bounty hunters were close to her. Then at the corner of her eye, she could see Mortimer having a conversation with some of the citizens and priests, in addition to the Marines interviewing some of them. She shrugged and turned around, surmising that he was collecting information. He'll most likely join later. Still, she wasn't expecting anything new from Mortimer either. His supposed guesses were most likely as good as theirs. If anything, it was better that he was getting additional information instead, maybe valuable. Stowing away her notebook, Eileen brought out the debriefing files once more and looked through all the images. Most of the evidence photos were graffiti, to which she decided to physically arrive at the most recent and probably the most explicit painting. However, what caught her attention the most was the upheaval of tombs, in which their next destination would be at the most recent tampering of the graves at Cactithedral. After the briefing, the Captain had issued out orders to investigate the graffiti and the tomb. Once those investigations were finished, it was fair game to do whatever was needed to close the case. And so she revolved her game plan around the orders. Though, her formulated plan was incomplete because if one part of her plan goes awry, she needed to leave enough room for improvisation. The Captain was now operating inside the building, handling other tasks but keeping contact with the Den Den Mushi, and so the leaders of the current investigation team were primarily her and the one other Lieutenant, whose name she might have heard was Jackson. Placing the files back into her bag, she walked towards Lang and spoke as she brushed past him. "I highly doubt we can find anything more here. It's good that we've come up with some leads, but I think we'll find more evidence on our next spot: a tampered tombstone. It's more likely we'll find evidence there." "Hey, Jackson!" He caught the attention of the Lieutenant who looked up (good, it was his name). "We're finished observing, nothing much here! Wrap up your talks and let's move onto our next spot! Assign some Marines here to watch the perimeters!" Jackson nodded in agreement. Well, that felt weird. That was her first time issuing out orders to Marines of lower rank than her. The power held in her hand felt too much for her to handle, but it felt good at the same time. She shook her head to refocus. She looked back at Lang and decided to debrief him about their next destination. "Cactithedral isn't too far from here. It's where the head mourner is supposed to preside. I believe that's where they are electing their next priest too, so some tampering there would put a halt to whatever process they're doing." Eileen wasn't aware of Lang's past call with the Den Den, but she could almost certainly tell that his attention was divided. "Anything the matter or anything more I should know?" She wasn't going to continue being persistent if Lang denied to answer, but this was her attempt in exercising some authority as the leader. |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | May 21 2017, 07:38 AM Post #30 |
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"Depends on how you define 'lunatic,' doesn't it. After all," Lang said as he turned a mischievous eye Eileen's way, "some might be forgiven for scoffing at the idea that a man might transform into snow at will, only to receive a frightful surprise." Jokes aside, it was a curious display with a great many implications. he crossed his arms and began stroking at his chin again. "On a more serious note, a bit of insight gained from personal experience; never doubt what can be done in the Grandline. In this ocean, all the cards are on the table, including those from completely different decks. I don't think some end of the world cult planning to resurrect a destructive figure is particularly likely - and I think it is less likely they would actually have the ability to do so. But, no matter how improbable I might think it is, I can't genuinely discount it as entirely impossible. Stranger things have happened." He had little doubt that things could get stranger still. In a world where all manner of bizarre superhuman skills and abilities ran rampart, it made detective work all the more troublesome. Select individuals had means and ways that left no evidence, or give them all manner of credible deniability. On the other hand, with a tougher safe came a bigger reward. Dismantling a well-orchestrated conspiracy was always going to fill the Jacks' coffers more than a few piddling crimes of passion done in the heat of the moment and just oozing with clues. But that was all making assumptions about the perpetrators and their potential set of capabilities. "Of course, another thing to keep in mind is that we might not be dealing with actual 'belief' here. Bringing back the dead? For most people, likely not an option. But reincarnation? Possession by vengeful spirits of long sealed away gods? Now those things can be achieved with just a few acting classes. You might be surprised by how often things like this can boil down to an elaborate scam and want for a quick buck.It's not just the weak, but the gullible that could do with protection. I dread to think how much the Navy has on its plate, at times," he thought aloud, pondering and muttering to no-one in particular save his own imagination. The graffiti received a few more cursory glances from different angles but didn't reveal anything of great interest. Lang nodded and quietly agreed with Eileen and let her go about her business of wrapping up the scene and doing as Marines did - order each other around. In the meanwhile he offered a sleepy, bored and largely immobile Red some insectoid treats for her to nibble on. It garnered a few unpleasant looks from the surrounding soldiers, but he paid them all little attention until Eileen politely and professionally announced their next round of clues. Lang followed along close behind her as they left towards perhaps the most impressive of Cactus Island's landmarks. "Oh, nothing of great import," he drawled. "A boss giving his employee the next month's reports to be filed in advance, is all. I wish I could say it was relevant, but it isn't. Sacked graves, however, most certainly are. Do we know if 'tampered' means simply defaced or if there has been any actual robbery? And if the priests themselves are in residence? I do, naturally, love some witness statements." |
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